


You'll Never Know Just What You Mean To Me

by Space_and_Thyme



Series: You Are My Lucky Star [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Definitely not Infinity War compliant, M/M, Making Love, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve thinks he'll never have Bucky back, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Bucky Barnes, assumed continued amnesia, but then again none of these fics are, in which Tony starts to see his mistakes, not completely civil war compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_and_Thyme/pseuds/Space_and_Thyme
Summary: After the last standoff between Steve and Tony... things change. Suddenly Tony sees just why Steve has been fighting so hard to protect and save the Winter Soldier.And leaving Bucky behind in Wakanda is the hardest thing Steve has ever had to do... because he'll never see the love of his life again... six months later, a familiar stranger shows up on his doorstep.In which Bucky and Steve properly reunite.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is in two pieces for a simple reason. The first chapter deals with the history of the situation, so it fits within the "Winter's Child" series as well...

  _2016_

_Siberia._

_“He’s my friend!”_

_“So was I!”_

 

The words keep echoing through Tony’s ears – still pounding through his blood. He’d come so close – so close to avenging the death of his parents at the hands of the Winter Soldier – and Steve Rogers had stopped him. He didn’t understand it – he knew that back during the war they had been close – and he knew that Bucky’s fall from the train that day in the Alps had forever changed Steve Rogers from a man with a plan… into _Captain America_ – the man with nothing to lose and very little retained human socialization qualities. Tony _knew_ that it had damaged Steve terribly – and that the shock and _relief_ that the man was alive – albeit trying to kill him – had changed everything again. He knew this.

 

What he didn’t understand was why Steve had sided with a killer – with the most dangerous man on the planet – over him – over the rest of their friends. He didn’t understand it – James Buchanan Barnes was a relic of the past who no longer existed. He _had_ died that day in the Alps – what was left was a monster, a master assassin – a man that was beyond dangerous. He wasn’t what Steve remembered as his friend – so why did he fight so hard to protect him?

 

Tony sat panting – the fighting had passed, and Steve was sitting off to the side regaining his breath as he knelt beside the Winter Soldier’s side. The assassin’s weaponized arm had been sheared – burned? – off by the blast from the Arc Reactor in Tony’s suit. That son of a bitch had gone straight for it the moment he had a chance.

 

Tony saw only the fire and fury in the Winter Soldier’s eyes – he’d been willing to call the man _Bucky_ before he saw that video, but no more – but he’d never stopped to ask _why_ the man switched from quiet and reserved to pure hatred and wrath in the blink of an eye.

 

Tony never stopped to ask why the Winter Soldier – a man _more_ than capable of neutralizing a threat with minimal effort – had come at him fists blazing and with rage boiling through his entire body. He’d never stopped to ask why the Winter Soldier, not particularly known for extended vocalization, had attacked him – roaring in anger.

 

All he knew was that bastard had killed his parents – had killed his mom. And nothing else had mattered – not even when Steve had begged him to stop before it got too far. Not even when he saw the unshed tears glinting in the Winter Soldier’s eyes – no, the bastard was lying. He wasn’t actually remorseful – they were crocodile tears. HYDRA’s elite assassin was incapable of anything but cold, calculated, murder.

 

The Soldier was lying on the floor, drifting in and out of delirium, as Steve knelt near him. His breath seemed ragged – strange for a trained killer in peak shape.

 

The silence between the three of them was pregnant – just waiting to be broken.

 

It was the Soldier that broke it first – a tiny whimper left him as he squeezed his eyes shut. He bit his lip as hard as he could, to keep himself quiet as the swell of pain washed over him anew.

 

“Bucky… Shh… Buck, I’ve got ya…” Steve reached down and brushed his friend’s dark hair back out of his eyes.

 

“Stevie…” Bucky’s voice was strained; he wrenched the words through bouts of extreme pain. He was barely audible outside of the bubble that surrounded himself and Steve.

 

“I’m here, Buck… I’m not leavin’ ya here like this – you’re going to be fine.” Steve swallowed tightly.

 

Bucky’s pupils were dilated – completely blown in pain. He was almost unable to see – the pain from his arm sending burning coils of agony through his body and making him burn.  Steve’s slight movement jarred him, and suddenly the world was falling away underneath him.

 

What control that Bucky had had over his pain, over his vocalization of it, was suddenly gone and he was screaming.

 

Steve’s eyes widened in shock and he cupped Bucky’s jaw gently. “Buck.. Buck I need you to  breathe-“

 

But Bucky’s grey eyes suddenly rolled back and his body went completely limp. Completely unconscious.

 

“What just happened?” Tony’s brows furrowed together as he sat up properly.

 

Steve shot him a dark look, a mix of terror and anger.

 

“What?”

 

“Do you understand _at all_?” Steve snorted indignantly. “He just passed out in pain-“

 

“Yeah, I can see _that_!” Tony snorted. “Why are you so –“

 

“Look, Tony. For one thing, that metal arm was wired into his nervous system – so he’s in more pain that most people can imagine. For another, Bucky _never_ reacts to pain. He doesn’t show it – never has. Not since we were kids. He’d never let me see him hurtin’ – he wanted to be the strong one so that when I was really hard done by, I’d be at peace knowin’ he was there… that everything would be fine because _nothin’_ hurt Bucky Barnes… so the fact that he just screamed in pain and collapsed…” Steve’s throat went tight and he looked away, back down at Bucky.

 

Without thinking, he gathered the limp form of his childhood best friend into his arms and held him close. He dropped his forehead against Bucky’s, cradling the unconscious man as he mindlessly stroked his hair.

 

Tony watched for a moment, focusing on the gentle way that Steve touched the Winter Soldier. On the way that he cradled him to his breast like he was desperate to not let go of something so precious. He focused on the way Steve’s shoulders were slumped – almost shaky as the man seemed to be fighting tears.

 

It was … starting to make sense.

 

All of it.

 

Steve’s desperate need to save the Winter Soldier, even when there was no hope. Steve’s refusal to believe that Bucky was behind the bombing that killed King T’Chaka. That there was something worth saving in the Soldier.

 

Tony remained silent for a moment, as Steve held Bucky against his chest.

 

Finally, he broke the stillness of the room. “You weren’t just friends, were you…”

 

Steve sighed, the sound rushing out of him was an irritated exhale. “Bucky was my right hand man – I would have – would still – trust him with my life. He was my best soldier, and my best friend.” He stroked Bucky’s hair back from his face again, taking the time to gently brush his thumb over the peak of Bucky’s bruised cheekbone.

 

“No, I meant… You and Sergeant Barnes… weren’t _just_ friends, were you? You were…” he gestured vaguely off to the side.

 

Steve sighed again, but the anger was gone from it. The sound was just… heartbroken. “Bucky was…” he breathed out softly. “Bucky was … _everything_ to me growing up… he was…” he paused a moment as he sorted his thoughts.

 

He knew Bucky wasn’t coming back – not the Bucky he’d lost in the Alps and _certainly_ not the Bucky that deployed from Manhattan that day in 1943. Too much had been done to him, his mind wiped too many times. And Steve knew that even if he remembered their friendship, he’d never remember the depth of everything else they shared. It had been stripped from Bucky – from _both_ of them.

 

But he hadn’t told anyone _ever_ before – hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell them. Because when he and Bucky were married in every way but the legality of it, their love was illegal. The Howling Commandos had known – of course they had. They hadn’t cared, because they respected the hell out of Sergeant Barnes, and would have followed him anywhere because of his down-in-the-dirt-with-them leadership. They had followed Captain America, because Bucky had followed him. They knew, and they had been there for him the day that Bucky died. Had done what they could to ease the pain, but Steve had never told them. They had known what stood between their two commanders based upon the way they looked at each other – the way they bowed their heads together as they were plotting.

 

But Steve had never told any of the Avengers what had existed between himself and Bucky – had preferred them to only know Bucky as his childhood friend and not his lover. Had preferred himself to be viewed in a way that made him seem less human, so that the pain of loss and temporal dislocation was lessened. So that he was only  _Captain America_ , and not  _Steve Rogers_. 

 

“He was… I looked up to Bucky, when we were kids… My Dad died in the Great War… My Ma was all I had… and Bucky was my role model – good, kind, and a protector. I wanted to be just like him… but I was always the one full of piss and vinegar. Bucky was level and… exasperated…” he chuckled, though it was almost bitter “every time I ended up in a fight – he constantly pulled me out, even when I didn’t want his help. He was…” Steve slowly exhaled and quirked his brow up as he spoke. “I’ve said it before… but … even when I had _nothing_ … I had Bucky…”

 

He finally looked up at Tony, and met his eyes strongly. “He was my childhood best friend, yes… but he was also my first love… and the love of my life.” His gaze dropped back down to the unconscious man he was holding with his head in his lap.

 

“Steve… I _know_ you want to believe he’s still in there – but he’s not-“

 

“I know he’s not. I know this man here isn’t _my_ Bucky… and I know he’ll never be _my_ Bucky again. But… I'd love him no matter who he became... 'cause I'm not little Steve Rogers any more either. Bucky did so much for me. And… he sacrificed himself for me… It was because of me he fell that day and… because of me he was captured the second time… Tony… Bucky always saved me, always rescued me, even when I didn’t want it. I _owe_ him so much – the least I can do is _try_ to save him..”

 

“Christ, Steve.” Tony sighed and rubbed at his eyes in frustration. “Are you telling me that the _only_ person you ever loved was James Barnes? What about Peggy?”

 

“Peggy held a place in my heart that can't be touched – I admired the hell out of her, I adored her, and yes… I had love for her. But _Bucky_ was my world. I would have chosen him over everyone else on the Earth. I wanted to die the day he fell – why do you think I didn’t bail out before crashing into the ice in ’44? I wanted to die, Tony… I wanted to either be with Bucky in death… or be in a void of darkness where the pain of his loss could no longer consume me…”

 

There was a pause of some length, before Tony huffed. “And you … _really_ believe that he’s getting better? That he’s remorseful? Even though he killed my parents?” the last part came out with a growled barb.

 

“Bucky loved your father, Tony… Absolutely adored Howard. Bucky would never have hurt him or your mother if he was in control of himself…” Steve shook his head.

 

Tony watched the way in which Steve held the comatose assassin – so full of tender affection, which he’d dared not to show to the man while he was conscious. So full of desperation and heartache, that despite his own broken heart over the death of his parents, Tony felt something akin lamentation breeding within his breast.

 

He’d lost his parents, it was true. But Steve had lost the love of his life, and Bucky had lost himself _and_ his sweetheart. They had all suffered.

 

Against his better judgement, he spoke up. “Can you carry him?”

 

Steve’s eyes flashed up Tony. “What?”

 

“I asked you if you could carry him. Can you support his weight?” Tony pushed himself up off the ground slowly.

 

“I don’t – yes.” Steve paused, but nodded. “Yeah, I can carry him.”

 

“Then get up and bring your boy with you.”

 

★

 

Bucky awoke, dazed with pain, somewhere between Siberia and Wakanda. His lucidity did not last long – his body was burning and he was exhausted from the taxation of the pain – unable to do anything but breathe slowly as he rested, boneless, against Steve’s chest.

 

Captain America was still cradling him to his body – unable, or perhaps unwilling, to let go of him. In his hazy state, Bucky found that he really didn’t mind all that much – at least the press of his cheek against the fabric of Steve’s uniform, and the arms looped around him, brought a distraction to the fiery pain of his once again missing left arm.

 

It hadn’t been this unbearable since Zola’s crew had taken the rest of his arm to just below his shoulder while he was conscious. Mercifully, he had fainted while the metal arm was being attached, and wired directly into his exposed nerve endings.

 

Bucky knew that his programming – his conditioning – was starting to fail. The Winter Soldier would have taken the pain of the lost arm in stride – because pain, even searing pain such as this, was not important in his missions. He had, after all, severely damaged his body time and time again while in the field. The serum had made it easier to recover from – the damage righting itself over the course of hours or days – weeks, if it was bad enough – but it had never _dulled_ the pain. He always felt it acutely. The difference was that he no longer _had_ to push it back and hide it.

 

And, mercifully, he fell unconscious again now. Collapsing back against Steve’s broad chest as he was unable to fight off the pain as he had for so many years.

 

★

 

It broke Steve’s heart when Bucky elected to put himself back into a cryogenic stasis. He understood it, completely, but it was hard for him.

 

It was like losing his best friend all over again. He wasn’t sure that the Wakandans could fix Bucky – and Bucky refused to be conscious out of cryo if the triggers weren’t removed from his brain. He refused to be made to hurt innocent people again, because of something he had no control over. But this? This Bucky _could_ control. He could control whether or not he was ever released from the freezer again.

 

But for Steve, it was like saying goodbye to Bucky again. Like watching him die, for he had no idea if he would ever see the man awake again. And even if he did… Bucky was different now.

 

It was like saying goodbye, without the ability to hold on. He couldn’t kiss his beloved goodbye – couldn’t press his lips to his and hold him close for however long he needed before he could let go of Bucky. No, that hadn’t been a possibility in seventy two years. No, despite the modern world looking more kindly upon two boys who were the world to each other- that had been ripped from them the day that Bucky fell from the train. As much as he wanted – as much as he _needed_ \- to kiss Bucky goodbye; to tell him without speaking the words just how much he _still_ loved him, Steve could not.

 

Because Bucky only remembered their friendship, and not the blessed seven years that they had spent as lovers, basking in the warm glow of their love in a too small apartment that had little to offer them as they scraped and scrounged to make ends meet. Because Bucky only remembered pieces of the past – memories scattered to the wind like ashes and smoke. Because, although Bucky would never push him away or question the kiss, Bucky would never kiss him back. Because he would never feel the tender, loving, glide of Bucky’s warm mouth against his as he hummed a sweet sound of adoration and pleasure.

 

Because the days in which Bucky was Steve’s kept man died the day that he did.

 

And there was no way of knowing if Shuri would be capable of removing the trigger words.

 

It was highly possible that Bucky would never come out of Cryo again.

 

★

 

It was difficult, coming home from Wakanda.

 

As far as Steve knew, he was a fugitive – not that it mattered much. He was a fugitive of the law, but most importantly he’d lost Bucky again.

 

He’d had him for a brief, golden, moment… and he’d slipped through his fingers again.

 

Every time he’d had Bucky, it had been only a matter of time until he was gone again. The clock always ticked, ominously, on their relationship. It had started that moment on Coney Island’s Wonder Wheel that July night in 1937. It had started ticking, spelling their doom, the moment they had confessed their love.

 

The time between their reunion and their forced sundering had progressively grown shorter and shorter.

 

Their happiness had lasted from 1937 until Bucky was drafted in ’42. He’d left for basic training, but he’d come back.  Before he was deployed, they’d had seven years of happiness. And then the fear had washed over Steve, making him sick and desperate, when he’d heard that the 107th had been captured, and that Bucky was amongst the prisoners of war. But he’d got him back! He’d rescued his beloved, and they were together again, though it was nothing like before Bucky was drafted – nothing, even, like before Bucky deployed. He was changed, and they were not as free to be together. But Steve had him back – had him, this time, for less than six months. Six months, and then Bucky had fallen to his death while he was defending Steve. While he was fulfilling his role as protector. He’d made the choice himself, knowing it was likely that he would die…

 

But then, miraculously, Bucky had been alive – he’d lived through the seventy years that Steve was in the ice, and he was whole – for the most part. But, Bucky had slipped through his fingers following the battle over the Potomac… and he’d spent two long years searching for the man he once knew. And then he’d found him! And they’d had to run, immediately.

 

He’d only had Bucky for a week that time – counting the battle in the airport, the trip to Siberia, and the few days spent in Wakanda while they prepared for Bucky’s return to cryo.

 

The time in which he had with Bucky was shortening with every iteration, and Steve had no doubt that _if_ there was another meeting that it would be stripped them faster than either of them could blink.

 

No, Bucky was lost to him, and he would never see the love of his life again.

 

Steve knew that he should move on, to relinquish his desperate hold on Bucky… but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to let go. To find another to fill the space that Bucky left in his heart… because _no one_ could ever replace Bucky.

 

Coming home was difficult – but Tony, true to his word, had done what he could for Steve. With Prince T’Challa’s help, a press release was managed in which the truth of Captain America’s involvement with the happenings in Romania, Germany, and Siberia were revealed. That while he had not wanted to fight, he was doing it to protect an innocent man. And, once the actions of Zemo were revealed, the pressure had started to release.

 

Eventually, two months after leaving Bucky in Wakanda, Steve was allowed to return home.

 

Tony didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms – not that he expected anything separate to the near indifference bestowed upon him by Howard Stark’s son. Steve didn’t mind it much – he knew the damage to their friendship had been done the moment he chose Bucky over Tony. He’d thought that Tony had understood, maybe even forgiven him, when he agreed to help get the unconscious assassin to the help he needed in Wakanda. But, he’d thought wrong.

 

That much was obvious when Tony was constantly “too busy” to see Steve. There was always an excuse – a new experiment, a new toy, something going awry in the lab. Steve knew what it was – it was hurt and distance so that Tony could keep himself together, and honestly… Steve didn’t worry about it. It hurt like hell, of course it did, but maybe… just maybe… one day the wall of ice between the two of them would melt and they could return to their friendship.

 

After all, he didn’t have Bucky any more.

 

★

 

It was six months after the battle of the airport, after everything had fallen apart around him.

 

Steve sat on the couch in his apartment – well, the floor that was assigned to him in the Avenger’s Tower. He was free to come and go as he pleased, but he knew he was watched. He couldn’t blame Tony for that. He’d have kept watch on him too, just in case.

 

Still though, maybe it was best if no one saw Steve Rogers for a while. Maybe a long while. He wasn’t himself. Rather, he _was_ himself, but the shielding mantle of _Captain America_ ’s power and prestige had been stripped away from him the moment Bucky had said goodbye for the last time. Every wall that Steve had built following Bucky’s fall, had cracked and crumbled, exposing his broken heart.

 

He needed new walls, but he found himself unable to build them for lack of energy. Lack of feeling beyond a heavy apathy and lingering sadness.

 

It was best if no one saw him while he was like this. He knew it would pass, it always did… but it was harder this time, and he knew why.

 

When he’d lost Bucky that first time in the mountains, it had been sudden. There’d been no time to stew on it before it happened. No time to worry.

 

This time, well… this time he’d had four days of foreknowledge before Bucky returned to the ice. He’d had four days in which he could have begged Bucky to stay with him – that he’d find a way to protect him. He’d had four days in which to tell Bucky that he still loved him with all his heart – no matter _who_ he’d become – and that he’d always love him. That he’d be waiting for him on the other side of the ice.

 

But Steve had done none of that. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Bucky anything so personal, knowing that Bucky did not remember their love affair. He couldn’t further damage the man he loved so much… so he damaged himself instead.

 

“Steven, there is a visitor to see you. Mr. Stark has already given clearance. They’ll be arriving in 30 seconds.” JARVIS’ voice suddenly broke through Steve’s miserable reverie.

 

He jolted slightly, and looked immediately to the elevator. “JARVIS, who-“

 

Steve heard the elevator ding as it reached his floor, and the doors slid open.

 

His heart raced, leaping into his throat. If he didn’t know better, Steve would have thought that his arrhythmia was suddenly acting up again – and his asthma. He could barely breathe.

 

A ghost walked out of the elevator.

 

He must have been hallucinating – he’d finally lost his mind in his heartache. His broken heart projecting the image of the man he most wanted to see.

 

Bucky stepped out of the elevator – he hesitated slightly before stepping out onto the main floor of Steve’s apartment. But, as he spotted Steve across the way, kitty-corner from the door, his confidence grew.

 

The front of his dark hair was gathered back from his face, and fastened behind his head. The rest of his dark locks hung loose around his broad shoulders. He’d shaved – his jaw clean of the scruff that Steve had last seen on him, that last day in Wakanda… He was dressed simply: a black relaxed fit tee with a wide scoop-neck that allowed his clavicle and a small section of metal on his left shoulder to be visible while it strained over his broad shoulders and strong chest, with charcoal toned acid-washed slim-fit jeans that did nothing but draw attention to his heavily muscled thighs. The look was capped off with a pair of black combat boots.

 

He had _two_ arms. The left was a gleaming silver, and – he was _definitely_ a hallucination. Because Bucky was in cryo freeze in Wakanda. He was also missing his metal arm. This man wasn’t real.

 

If he was a hallucination, he was a striking one.

 

Steve tried not to notice the slight swing in Bucky’s hips as the man approached him. His mouth ran dry as he held his breath.

 

He was just imagining it. Just imagining Bucky in front of him. Just imagining that the love of his life was back. He knew better than to hope – Bucky was a relic of the past that he needed to let go of… for his own wellbeing.  Still, he found himself rising to his feet as Bucky crossed the distance between them.

 

“Buck…” his voice was barely above a whisper as he focused on the vision before him. His tongue darted out and he wet his lips, unable to face reality.

 

God, he wanted this hallucination to be real. Wanted Bucky to be here with him.

 

“Stevie…” Bucky smiled warmly as his voice rumbled softly in the echoing silence. He stopped in front of Steve, and stood waiting. Half a room apart.

 

That voice was not the product of his imagination. While Steve would have recognized Bucky’s voice in any reality, no matter how long they had been apart – the gravely rumble of Bucky’s tone echoing in his ears was too real.

 

Steve’s eyes widened and he hiccupped in shock. He couldn’t help but stare.

 

Bucky waited, watching Steve as the man seemed to go through five stages of grief in three seconds. The silence stretched on for a long moment, as Steve appeared to be rooted to the spot. Finally, Bucky rolled his eyes and strode forward. He was on Steve in a second. His metal hand shot out and suddenly grasped Steve’s chin and jaw, pinching Steve’s face as the cerulean eyes widened in surprise.

 

Bucky gave him no time.  Titanium hand still on Steve’s face, he pulled the man in close and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth as his flesh hand lifted and cupped the back of Steve’s neck, holding him in the kiss as his metal hand released his face.

 

Steve pulled back out of the kiss- pushing back against Bucky’s flesh hand – as he stared at his friend wide-eyed and stupid with shock. “I… Bucky… What-“

 

Bucky pulled him close again, his eyes sliding closed as he pressed his lips tenderly against Steve’s again – this time the kiss was warm, chaste, and sweet. Not the bruising, hard, collision of a moment passed. Steve’s heart beat fluttered, as Bucky’s fingers stroked through his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, tentatively returning Bucky’s sweet kiss – afraid that this was just a dream. But it felt so real, the softness of Bucky’s lips against his own, the smooth sweetness of Bucky’s tongue brushing against his, and slowly exploring Steve’s mouth, studying every inch and memorizing it. The strange bitterness of black coffee on Bucky’s breath, and the ghost of cigarette smoke – Steve wasn’t sure if that was the truth, or his memories playing a trick on him.

 

But, the moment Bucky hummed into the kiss, Steve realized this wasn’t a dream, not a hallucination. Bucky’s hum had always been Steve’s favourite part of their tender kisses – it rumbled through the two of them, and made Steve shiver. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, hauling him closer as he arched his back – pressing the long line of his body against Bucky’s as he dragged the man almost off of his feet. Bucky’s hand in Steve’s hair knotted and tugged affectionately, as his left hand came up and brushed cool metal fingers against Steve’s cheek.

 

Steve pulled back from the slow and sweet kiss – keeping his eyes closed as he panted softly. Too afraid to look into Bucky’s eyes. Too afraid that he’d see something he desperately wished not to – that Bucky’s eyes remained emotionless despite the overwhelming tenderness of that sweet kiss. Too afraid to know the truth. Instead he turned his face and nuzzled into the cool metal of Bucky’s palm, brushing his lips against the metal plates there. “Buck…” his voice was strained – not wanting to ask, but needing to know.

 

The metal thumb stroked over the peak of Steve’s cheekbone again – it was smooth and cool, but the chill calmed Steve. “I know you’re afraid… but I promise… I’m _here_ … I’m not leaving, Stevie.”

 

Steve’s eyes slowly opened, and the tears he’d been fighting for six months finally well up and could not be contained. They slid down his cheeks as he focused on Bucky’s gentle expression. It was strange to see him like that – the emotionless and firm expression replaced by one so _full_ of gentleness and emotion. It was almost startling. He swallowed tightly, trying to find his voice.

 

But Bucky’s quiet voice interrupted him before he had the chance to murmur the question that was burning in his mind. “I remember, _baby_ … I _remember_.” He emphasized his words in just such a way that his meaning could not be missed.

 

Steve’s hand shot up and he squeezed the metal forearm to keep himself steady, as the metal hand continued to gently cradle his face. His eyes were glittering as he slid his hand up the smooth metal, and over the hand. Without hesitation, he pressed the cold titanium hand closer against his cheek – unafraid, and _so_ happy to just be able to _touch_ Bucky. He swallowed tightly around the lump forming in his throat, and opened his mouth to speak – until the light glimmering off of a metal plate on the inside of Bucky’s wrist caught his attention.

 

There was a small amount of engraving on the plate. Steve gently pulled Bucky’s hand from his cheek, and turned it over so he could see the writing on the inner wrist plate. His pulse jumped as he saw two stamped words:

 

_STARK TECH_

Tony had helped. Tony had actually _helped_ even after getting Bucky to Wakanda. He’d actually … been telling Steve the truth when he said he was too busy in the lab.

 

Tony Stark had _actually_ helped to build Bucky a new arm – even after everything that had happened between the three of them.

 

He almost wanted to laugh, or maybe the nausea would win. He still felt like he was in a beautiful dream. The laugh won – Steve barked out a watery laugh as he looked up into Bucky’s eyes. He couldn’t take it any more – they were too far apart, even with naught but a short distance between them. Steve grabbed Bucky by the back of his neck – fingers tangling in his dark tresses – and pulled him in swiftly. Mouths crashing together into a desperate and fervent kiss that was more a clash of teeth and bruised lips, as Steve fought to ground himself with the feeling of Bucky’s mouth on his, and his hands on Bucky’s flesh.  But he still felt like he was floating.

 

It took Steve a moment to realize that Bucky’s hands had slid down his sides and his arms had hooked underneath him. He scooped Steve up and lifted him with an ease that Steve did not expect now that he was the larger of the two men. He gasped slightly against Bucky’s insistent mouth, the second he realized that Bucky was holding him aloft; he didn’t even realize that he’d automatically wrapped his legs around Bucky, until he suddenly recognized the once familiar sensation of Bucky’s thick waist keeping his thighs apart. His gasp soon turned to a groan as a wave of arousal washed over him.

 

He’d never thought he’d have this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to stop here if you don't care to read a chapter that's 97% smut. I won't be offended lol.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's porn with feelings. A lot of it.

If he was being honest with himself - Steve’s jeans became uncomfortably tight the moment he realized that Bucky could still lift him. His mouth had started watering the instant the thought of kissing and tasting the expanses of Bucky’s soft and tanned skin – _every. single. inch_. He could barely keep himself together, as he hung onto his lover – and, oh wasn’t _that_ the most perfect phrase? To be able to call Bucky by that term again – to be able to exist in this world, this time, with the only person he’d ever really loved… it was everything. Because now there was little fear of being outed – rather, it was less to be feared now. And, because Bucky remembered- Bucky _remembered!_

All he wanted to do, now that his heart was soaring with a promise previously denied to him, was to feel Bucky’s warm weight on top of him, pressing him into the mattress with the unnatural strength of a Super Soldier – forget the strength of the new Titanium arm, which brought further shudders of excitement in a rolling boil over Steve’s spine. To feel the sweat-damp press of Bucky’s taut belly against his – his knees pressed solidly into the mattress, strong thighs under the backs of Steve’s, as sweat-slicked hips thrust together, driving the hardness of Bucky’s cock unyieldingly into him.

 

Steve couldn’t help the groan that passed from his mouth and into Bucky’s as he sucked enthusiastically on Bucky’s eager tongue. His entire being was alight – burning with seventy two years of heartache and desire. He carded his hands back through his beloved’s dark hair – only to be stopped by the fastening that held the front section back off of his face. Grumbling in dissatisfaction, tongue still stroking against Bucky’s, Steve untangled his hands and started working the elastic out of his long, dark, hair.  Finally freeing it, he blindly shot the elastic off to the side as Bucky’s hair fell down around his face, in a slightly tangled cloud. He wasted no time pushing his hands through the locks again, causing Bucky to chuckle softly against his lips – until Steve scratched lightly over Bucky’s scalp, turning the amused chuckles into faint moans of pleasure.

 

Steve eased back from Bucky, his fingernails still scraping lightly over Bucky’s scalp as the man all but purred. He laughed softly, “You still love your scalp being scratched… like the big cat you are.” He grinned, unable to stop himself.

 

“There’s _a lot_ of things I still love.” He purred suggestively, a deep rumble as he rocked his hips – grinding his erection against Steve’s backside through their jeans.

 

Steve’s eyes closed, as another groan left his lips at the feeling of Bucky hard length pressing against him.

 

“You’re real, aren’t you?” Steve gasped a moment later – unable to bring himself to open his eyes.

 

“As real as I’ve ever been, baby.” Bucky murmured against Steve’s ear – licking the shell of it before none-too-gently nipping at his earlobe.

 

The feeling of Bucky’s teeth in his flesh was the last straw. Jerking, Steve’s hands shot up under the back of Bucky’s black tee- sliding his palms up strong, dense, muscles until he reached the midpoints of his shoulder blades. There, he dug his nails into Bucky’s tan flesh, and dragged them harshly back down towards the top of Bucky’s jeans. There was no question – his fingernails cut into Bucky’s skin, and instantly brought welts to the surface. It also made Bucky throw his head back and half-shout a deep moan. His neck elongated with his pleasured posture – throat open.

 

Steve had never heard Bucky moan _so_ loudly – he’d always been a little louder than they should be, but that blessed sound was more than he’d expected. And he wanted to hear more – to never stop hearing those blissed sounds. Surging forward, his legs tightening around Bucky’s thick waist, Steve scraped his teeth over Bucky’s adam’s apple, before his lips locked onto the peak of it. He sucked on it, as strongly as he could manage – wanting to mark the man as his – wanting to leave an almost blackened love bite, even knowing it would fade and heal by the next morning with their mutually accelerated healing. It wouldn’t matter in the morning – with luck, Bucky would still be in bed with him, and Steve could mark him again – he’d keep marking him every day for the rest of their preternaturally extended lives, as long as Bucky allowed it – as long as he _stayed_.

 

Bucky moaned again, still louder than Steve had ever heard from the man, and it was dizzying – the rumble of it vibrating through his vocal cords and into Steve’s mouth as it remained pressed to his throat. “Bedroom.” Bucky panted, pulling back and tilting his jaw back down, enough to look into Steve’s eyes. His pupils were blown with lust – the stormy silver grey all but eclipsed by black until it was nothing but a thin ring. “Bedroom. _Now._ ”

 

Breathless, Steve nodded and forced himself to let go of Bucky – just long enough to get himself back onto his own feet. He grabbed Bucky’s wrist, and hauled him along after himself as he strode with purpose into the hall, heading for his bedroom door, passing the main bathroom.

 

His heart was racing, filling with mild terror – he had no fear of Bucky, only that it had been an awfully long time since the last time they were together. Seventy two years, to be exact. And… well… Bucky had been the last person that Steve had taken to bed.

 

He had to push the anxiety aside. It was Bucky – only Bucky. No matter _who_ Bucky was now, he was still the man he loved, who he’d loved for his entire life, and who he would always love.  And suddenly it didn’t seem so terrifying – the spike of anxiety passed and the wall of arousal hit him again.

 

He was holding Bucky’s wrist – dragging the man behind him. But Bucky suddenly stopped, and jerked his arm back. Steve gasped, the sudden movement and Bucky’s strength pulling him off of his feet as he stumbled back. Bucky gave him no chance, immediately throwing his arm around Steve and wrenching him towards him. He ducked down, and threw Steve over his shoulder.

 

And suddenly Steve felt like he was a 16 year old punk from Brooklyn all over again – being carted off by an exasperated Bucky after a back alley fight with some no good bully. “What – what the _Hell_ -“

 

Bucky didn’t answer, instead he strode off down the hall in the direction that Steve had been pulling him.

 

 

Bucky threw the door of Steve’s bedroom open, and stalked in. He flooded into the room, moving with nearly murderous intent as crossed to the large, California King, bed.  Bracing his feet shoulder width apart, he threw Steve down onto the bed and immediately got onto his knees on the mattress, stalking up to Steve, as he knocked Steve’s legs apart with his. He prowled into the V of Steve’s open thighs, as Steve froze looking up at him.

 

Bucky’s grey eyes were burning with intense passion – a tiny and feral smirk on his lips as kept Steve trapped between beneath him and between his strong arms as his hands were braced on the bed. He shifted his knee again, this time knowingly rubbing his sturdy thigh against the firm bulge of Steve’s erection – eliciting a shudder and a moan from the blond man – whose blue eyes seemed to be filled with a strange and heady mixture of fear and arousal.

 

Bucky paused, seeing the look in Steve’s eyes. “Stevie?” he was worried.

 

Steve swallowed tightly “Yeah?”

 

“You with me? Do you want to stop?” Bucky sat back on his knees, and set his hands onto his thighs, waiting for Steve’s answer.

 

Steve blinked stupidly, his mind a little foggy with desire. “What?”

 

“Are you here with me? Are you comfortable, or do you want to stop?”  as much as Bucky wanted to reach out to touch Steve comfortingly, he didn’t want to pressure him any way _or_ startle him.

 

“What? No! No I’m… I’m here I’m just…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he raked his gaze up and down Bucky’s form, seated on his knees between Steve’s thighs, and he swallowed tightly around the lump in his throat. “Fuck…” it was a breathy little gasp as it left his lips, and Bucky’s brow quirked up in question. “Fuck you’re…” Steve blushed a little as his mouth started watering – salivating before he could even get his lover out of his tee shirt.

 

“Stevie… I need you to tell me what’s going on.” Bucky intoned pointedly, as he reached out with his right hand – not touching, but coming close enough to show his intent.

 

Steve barely heard him, his eyes roving over Bucky hungrily – broad shoulders and heavy pectorals that made even the relaxed fit of the black tee strain. Strong biceps – one of tanned flesh, the other of gleaming titanium – that Steve wanted nothing more than to be constantly enveloped in. Bucky’s dense but lean waist, and the thick thighs that stretched the denim warningly. He wanted Bucky more than anything – would have, no matter what he looked like now, but the increased muscle and the way it was sculpted, only fanned the flames of his desire. His eyes had fallen to Bucky’s strong lap, and stayed locked on the thighs that were made all the more visibly thick by the way in which Bucky was sitting.

 

Finally, another few words fell from Steve’s mouth. “Gorgeous… want you – want _all_ of you.”

 

He licked his lips, slowly drawing his gaze back up Bucky’s arms and to his chest, and up to his slightly parted pink lips. And Steve could take it no longer. He lunged forward, crashing into Bucky and pulling a gasp from the other man as he pushed Bucky down onto the mattress- hands firm on his mismatched shoulders as he straddled him. Their mouths crashed together – a clash of teeth and tongues as Steve’s hands scrabbled and gripped both sides of Bucky’s scooped shirt collar. Without warning, he ripped the fabric apart, destroying the shirt and tossing the torn remnants open.

 

He wasted no time, sitting heavily back on Bucky’s thighs as he kissed him desperately – sucking on Bucky’s tongue while his hands slid up the ripple of Bucky’s abdominals, pushing at the firm pectorals, and scraping his palms over his nipples.

 

Bucky moaned warmly into Steve’s mouth – the calluses of Steve’s hands rasping at the sensitive skin of his nipples. Bucky’s arms were still on the mattress, where they’d landed when Steve knocked him down – the unspoken order to not move still in play as he let Steve feel and touch every inch of his torso.

 

Steve’s hands dragged over Bucky’s pectorals – moving towards each of the mismatched shoulders. But, the ridges of scar tissue under his right hand caught him off guard, and he broke the fiery kiss immediately. He sat back a little, and lifted his hand to look down at the place where the metal met flesh on Bucky’s shoulder. He frowned.

 

Bucky sighed deeply – he should have known this was coming. “Stevie…”

 

Steve wasn’t listening, instead he’d reached out carefully and began to caress his fingertips lightly and sweetly over the webbing of scar tissue. Tracing the scars and committing them to his memory as just one more part of Bucky to love.

 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Bucky lied through his teeth, and Steve knew it was a lie.

 

Still, Steve nodded, “I believe you.” Before he leaned down and licked a wide stripe up the old scarred wounds as his fingers tweaked Bucky’s nipple.

 

Bucky threw his head back against the mattress with a hot groan.

 

He didn’t give Steve any warning. Suddenly bringing his knees up planting his feet on the bed for leverage, Bucky threw his pelvis up – crashing his hips into Steve’s and forcibly knocking the man forward. Gasping as he lost his balance, Steve collapsed forward onto Bucky’s chest. The very second that Steve was collapsed against him, Bucky grabbed him and rolled them over so that he was on top of him. Straddling him, Bucky sat up for a moment and shrugged off the remnants of his black cotton shirt, throwing it across the room, before he dived down and dragged the white athletic shirt up and off of Steve.

 

He moved down, letting his thigh brush against Steve’s aching erection as his hands dropped to the ties of Steve’s joggers. Tugging the knot open, Bucky shuffled back on the mattress as he pulled the soft fabric trousers off of Steve’s quivering legs along with his boxer briefs, watching his cock bounce and throb with interest. Bucky threw the joggers aside, leaning down and scraping his teeth sharply over the crease of Steve’s thigh – the man’s erect cock straining as Steve tried to shift his hips, to bring Bucky’s attention to his aching flesh.

 

Bucky grinned, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as he pressed his palm against Steve’s testicles and slowly slid the pressure of his open palm up the underside of Steve’s cock – making the man shudder and writhe – before he took pity and wrapped his hand around it, as a litany of _‘Bucky! Bucky! Buckyyy!’_ poured unbidden from Steve’s desperate mouth.

 

He took pity, and tugged firmly- squeezing slightly as he worked his hand over Steve’s hard flesh, swirling his palm over the swollen head as he shifted back up and pressed a biting kiss to his lips.

 

Steve’s hands scrambled over him, digging into his skin as he scratched across Bucky’s chest and shoulders franticly as he sucked urgently on his tongue. His hands dragged down Bucky’s sides and immediately moved to grip his hips and drag him closer. His eyes widened and he jerked back at the last second, realizing that Bucky was _still wearing his jeans_. Groaning, Steve quickly popped the button open and slid the zipper down as his hand pushed inside Bucky’s trousers and found the open y-front of his briefs. He didn’t have time to really think about what he was doing – his body desperate to touch the man he loved for the first time in over seventy years and his mind blank of anything but the hot curl of desire burning in his lower belly. He palmed the heavy weight of Bucky, and shuddered in pleasure as Bucky moaned deeply into their fervent kiss – the sound rumbling between them. The feeling of Bucky’s erection in his hand was blissfully familiar, and grounded Steve before he realize he was starting to fly away in delirium at the feeling of such intense pleasure.

 

Bucky wasn’t even doing much more than pumping his hand over Steve as he kissed him solidly.

 

But, denied the basic pleasure of his beloved’s touch for so long, it was hard not to lose himself entirely within it.

 

“Buck…” Steve gasped softly, and squeezed Bucky’s cock instantly, feeling the wetness welling at the tip and the hot slick of sweat on his skin. He withdrew his hand, though he didn’t want to, before grabbing the waistband of Bucky’s jeans and boxers and forcefully dragging them down and off of him. He threw them blindly across the room before his hands immediately went to Bucky’s thick thighs. He gripped them tightly, revelling in the feeling of the dense, corded, muscle under his fingers. “Fuck…” he panted softly, and the next words left him before his lust-foggy mind could process them. “Crush me…”

 

Bucky snorted, and started laughing softly. He panted lowly against Steve’s ear. “I take it you _like_ my thighs…”

 

Steve nodded quickly, digging his fingers into the muscles under his hands again. “Love every part of ya, always have… but holy hell…”

 

Bucky grinned as he hooked his hands under Steve’s knees and dragged him closer, canting his hips up. “I’ll take that as a yes, baby.”

 

“Damn straight…” Steve’s hands immediately went to Bucky’s ass and grabbed the heavy muscle there – pulling Bucky the rest of the way against him.

 

Bucky grunted in surprise, but shifted his hips back and forth, settling with Steve and grinding against him as Steve’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of Bucky’s naked skin against his, inch for inch. He moved one hand – releasing its iron grip on Bucky’s glute, and motioned vaguely to the nightstand with an overriding sense of urgency – his hips already rolling against Bucky’s.

 

Bucky followed the motion, but quirked a brow. When Steve had knocked him over backwards onto the bed, they ended up facing the wrong way, away from the pillows. The mattress was also massive, and in order to reach the night stand, he had to tear himself away from Steve. He did so quickly – crawling swiftly to the nightstand, and pulled open the only drawer (since there was nothing on the top of it) to peer in.

 

He couldn’t help but stare at the barely touched bottle of KY Jelly that greeted him. Despite the mild surprise at seeing it (and everything that it implied), a feral grin pulled across Bucky’s face. He picked up the bottle and turned back to Steve. “Is this-“

 

“ _YES.”_ Steve’s voice was authoritative, if strained as he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Hurry up, Buck.”

 

He wanted to tease Steve by giving him a salute – but the urgency was still crackling like lightning barely contained under his own skin. There’d be time for teasing and maybe even real laughter later – right now he needed to reunite with his lover.

 

Steve moaned impatiently as Bucky slotted himself between the V of his parted legs, again. Without hesitation, he squeezed Bucky’s waist with his knees. 

 

Bucky set the bottle down beside them, and the pillows he’d dragged down from the head of Steve’s bed, his hands sliding under Steve’s thighs and shifted the position, forcing Steve to arc his back a little. “You’re su-“

 

“ _Yes_ I’m sure! _”_ Steve huffed as he gripped the back of Bucky’s long hair and tugged roughly – forcing Bucky’s head back and opening up the column of his throat as the action ripped a barely contained roared moan from Bucky.

 

Enough of talking, enough of waiting, Bucky nodded once and picked up the bottle of KY – popping the cap open with a _snap!_ As Steve continued to tug – gentler now – on his long hair. Bucky loved it – always loved having his scalp massaged and his hair pulled, but it was better now – easier for the leverage to be gained in the long locks. “Lift up…” he panted, and Steve immediately arched his hips off the bed – high enough for Bucky to stuff the pillows under his lower back to keep him comfortably propped up.

 

Steve settled back into the pillows, and Bucky poured the cool fluid over his flesh fingers, even as Steve’s hand released his hand and instead kneaded at the knotted muscled at the nape of Bucky’s neck.

 

The lube had warmed against his flesh, and Bucky rubbed his slicked fingers together to make sure of the temperature before he stroked the tips of his index and middle finger slowly and lightly over Steve. The man jolted slightly – wanting but still not expecting the sudden touch. Steve moaned as he lifted his hips up a little higher, Bucky’s fingers carefully massaging the tight ring of muscle, and he thought he might die just from the pent up sexual desire, grief, and wellspring of love for Bucky that had never abated.

 

He moaned, shifting impatiently but gasped as Bucky’s finger pressed into him. He panted, his body adjusting to the intrusion as Bucky began to slowly work him over. Soon, Steve was rolling his hips again, wanting more and telling Bucky as much with the little impatient sounds that each stroke of Bucky’s finger drew from him. Catching on, Bucky licked a long stripe up the length of Steve’s neck as he pushed a second finger into Steve’s heat.

 

Steve was already turning a slight pink – a nearly full body blood from arousal and desperation. The sight of it brought back any number of memories from years past. Practically lying atop Steve as he worked him open, Bucky sucked hard love bites into Steve’s neck – desperation making him more aggressive than he’d intended – and Steve responded to it.

 

“More!” it was a one-word demand, gasped with urgency as Steve dropped his head back against the mattress with Bucky’s sharp teeth latched into the corded muscle of his neck. His pulse pounded against those teeth, and it only made him desperately want _more_.

 

Bucky’s hand continued to ready Steve – warm fingers thrusting and scissoring within him. As Steve begged for more, he pressed a third finger in, and Steve writhed against him. Bucky bit his way down Steve’s throat, and over his flushed clavicles as he brushed his fingertips expertly over Steve’s prostate with each thrust of his hand.

 

Steve was nearly babbling – words, half-nonsense and half love-sick sentiments unshared for years – poured out of him like a river of letters. He clearly didn’t hear a word that he was saying, but it didn’t matter as the prayers of love and pleasure were meant for Bucky, and only him. His hands scrabbled at Bucky’s flesh and titanium shoulders and dragged their way down both biceps.

 

He was begging him, without the words – without the presence of mind to truly beg. And Bucky couldn’t hold off any longer. He eased his fingers from within his lover – eliciting an annoyed grunt from Steve.

 

His body was aching – thrumming with barely contained desire; cock hard and straining, muscles tense from holding his posture over Steve. His hand scrabbled to the side, finding the bottle of lube once again. He opened it again, with one hand as he pressed the heel of the other palm against Steve’s aching erection. Getting the bottle open, he drizzled the fluid over his own red, swollen, flesh and hissed slightly. The liquid, though room temperature, was cold against his overheated skin. Capping the bottle again and tossing it aside as Steve rut up against the hand that was still on him, still spilling the flood of babbled nonsense in pleasure at the needed friction, even though Bucky suddenly realized that it was his metal hand. He swallowed tightly at the trust – or perhaps it was pure desperation – that Steve was showing him. He reached down and stroked himself a couple of times – spreading the slick over himself with his flesh hand.

 

 The only warning that Bucky gave Steve was a hard and gnashing kiss – biting at his lips and sucking on Steve’s tongue with unleashed sexuality. He surged forward, grabbing Steve’s hip and jerking him firmly against him, as he sank into Steve’s tight heat. Steve practically lurched off of the bed – hands immediately flying to Bucky’s shoulders to hang onto him as tightly as he could, as a silent half-scream tried to rip from this throat. Bucky pressed his teeth into the flesh right above the hollow at the base of Steve’s throat, a warning, as he started the fast and hard rhythm.

 

As much as they loved each other, this moment had never been about being tender and loving, even if they’d gotten distracted along the way. No. Right now they were both in desperate need of fast and rough – something to work out all the emotions and aggression, something to ground them and bring them back to each other. Something that would strip away seventy years of pent up sexual desire, and lay them bare for each other again.

 

Bucky shifted back onto his heels – sitting on his knees again as he dragged Steve up with him, until the man was straddling him. His hands on Steve’s thighs were bruising in their grip as he pistoned his hips _up, up, up,_ as Steve’s hands scratched against the back of his shoulders – rutting back against him as he relished the sensation of Bucky fully seated within him, and the feeling of those thick thighs under him. He was moaning, completely delirious with pleasure, as Bucky pounded into him.

 

It wasn’t going to last long, not at the powerful pace that he’d set, but Bucky didn’t really care. He dropped his face to Steve’s shoulder and slowly bit into the expanse of his trapezius as he grunted with the effort of his thrusts. He wasn’t trying to be quiet, not by any means.

 

The sweat was pouring down Steve’s face and chest with the flush of arousal and the intense activity of their reunion. With each thrust and bounce, the head of Bucky’s erection pressed and scraped against Steve’s prostate, and he was already starting to see stars. He didn’t have far to go before he would fall headlong into a desperate orgasm, and judging by the determined and frantic little _‘unf!’_ grunts leaving Bucky with every thrust and ripple of his abdomen, he knew that he was close too.

 

Those impatient and exertion filled sounds ripping from Bucky’s chest were driving Steve over the edge. He’d never been able to hear them, not over a whisper, in the old days – it’d been too dangerous, in the off chance that their neighbors heard them. He’d never realized just how loud Bucky was when he was lost in pleasure and completely uncaring of the prospect of being heard. Steve couldn’t take it any more – grabbing Bucky by the back of his neck, he dragged him into a desperate kiss – biting and sloppy as his co-ordination was entirely concentrated on the roll and thrust of their hips together in vicious harmony. Bucky kissed him back, still grunting, but they rumbled from his chest and into Steve’s mouth – as his hand lifted from Steve’s thigh, and wrapped his hand around Steve’s untouched and overstimulated cock.

 

A little embarrassingly, Steve’s orgasm crashed over him the second that he felt Bucky’s warm hand on his cock – without even being stroked. He threw his head back, a strangled moan squeaking out of him – too lost in pleasure to even be able to shout his release. His hand knotted in Bucky’s hair, and he wrenched it hard – pulling Bucky’s head back as he came.

 

The surprise of Steve’s orgasm suddenly ripping through him, caught Bucky off guard- but he panted in pleasure, groaning and grunting as Steve pulled his hair hard. He followed a moment later – the pressure of Steve’s muscles clenching around him kicked him off of the precipice he’d been teetering on. The grunting became louder, breathier, as his orgasm ripped through him.

 

Jellied, suddenly, from the orgasm and the draining of his energy, Bucky flopped over backwards on Steve’s giant mattress. Steve fell with him – had been counting on Bucky for his own balance – and landed on his chest.

 

Bucky’s breast was heaving as he drank in as much air as he could – his heart racing from the exertion and pleasure. He stared, bleary eyed up at the ceiling – mind completely foggy for a moment in the afterglow.

 

Steve, weak-kneed and tired, slowly crawled off of Bucky, and collapsed in a lump to his side. He was panting just as hard as Bucky, and somewhere in the back of his mind he found the notion almost hysterical – that fighting was barely an exertion, yet Bucky could still pull everything out of him. He liked the thought.

 

What felt like a lifetime passed, and neither of them could be sure how long it truly was. But, their breathing had evened out, and erratic heartbeats had slowed back into the gentle pace of rest. Bucky stretched himself out – pointing his toes and allowing the muscles of his legs to pull taut; reveling in the enjoyable ache of overuse.

 

Steve sighed softly in content as he turned into Bucky’s side; he laid his hand against the man’s right pectoral, and rest his cheek on the other, closing his eyes. He snuggled closer, rubbing his cheek against the dense muscle of Bucky’s chest and the light patch of hair.

 

Bucky lifted his titanium hand, and gently stroked his fingertips through Steve’s dishevelled blond hair as his chest heaved under Steve. The cool metal fingers brushing against Steve’s heated scalp felt wonderful, as did the pleasantly lingering afterglow of their desperate reunion.

 

His body was wonderfully tired – muscles worked to a point of pleasant exhaustion where they quaked slightly. His limbs were jellied, and all he could do was lie tucked against Bucky. He never wanted to move, never leave the warmth of the bed now that Bucky was lying beside him again. He’d happily use only four feet of width at the centre of the California King bed, as long as it meant that Bucky was going to say here with him – and not just for the day. As long as Bucky was staying for real. He shifted slightly, managing to get his arm under Bucky’s lower back, and snuggled closer.  “I could do this all day…” the words left him before he realized it – a happy hum as he listened to Bucky’s beating heart.

 

There was a pause that stretched out between them, weighted, but only for the trouble it had been to come to this point in their existence again. Bucky breathed out a tiny half-laugh as he turned his head on the pillow to look down at Steve. “Which part?”

 

“Hm?” Steve lazily looked up towards Bucky’s face.

 

“ _Which part_ could you do all day?” the smirk was there, but it was small – tightly controlled. Like he still wasn’t quite used to showing his emotions.

 

Steve stilled, as he looked across the room. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud…” Bucky’s fingers were still combing through his hair – the gentle touching hadn’t stopped. Inevitably, Steve laughed slightly. “I don’t really know, Buck… Getting’ you back in my bed… that’s pretty fantastic. But, so is lyin’ here with you, just listenin’ to your heart… s’more than I could have ever asked, or hoped, for.”

 

Bucky leaned down slightly, and pressed a kiss against Steve’s forehead, answering the only way he could at that moment. He laid his warm hand over Steve’s on his breast and pressed it closer. His titanium hand moved to stroke its fingers over Steve’s neck, and down his side, but Bucky hesitated. Even though it wasn’t the arm that HYDRA had put on him, it was hard to avoid the fact that having a metal arm such as that tended to terrify everyone around him – even those of them that knew him well. He didn’t want Steve to shy away from him – didn’t want the man he loved to be afraid of him because of the advanced prosthetic.

 

Even though he'd already used the metal hand to touch Steve in more intimate places that day.

 

Steve felt the hesitation, though it happened so quickly. He wasn’t afraid of the arm – he’d never been afraid of the arm – and not only because it belonged to _Bucky_ , because the first time he’d seen it, he’d had no idea who the man beneath the mask had been. No, there was no difference between the metal, and flesh, arms. There was certainly no difference now that he knew who the Winter Soldier had been. Steve lifted his free hand, and brought it to Bucky’s hovering metal fingers. He stroked over the cool metal segments slowly, and brought the tips down against his neck – completing the move for Bucky. As soon as Bucky realized what Steve was doing and started to softly caress Steve’s skin with the metal, the other man pushed back into the cool touch – just happy to have Bucky’s touch.

 

As Bucky’s metal fingertips glided down his neck and over his shoulder, sweeping along the swell of his deltoid and back to his clavicle to repeat the process again, Steve sighed in content. “I _could_ do this all day…”

 

“It’s only after one…” Bucky murmured softly, the whisky tone of his voice washing over Steve. “We _can_ do this all day… “ Bucky paused for half a beat, before quickly adding “If… if you want.”

 

Steve shifted his positon, putting his hands on the mattress on either side of Bucky’s waist, as he stretched himself towards Bucky’s face. He kissed him sweetly, all soft lips and the tender brush of his tongue against Bucky’s as the man’s mouth instinctively opened for Steve even while his eyes closed.

 

Bucky cradled his face gently as he kissed Steve lovingly; tongue curling and swirling around Steve’s as their lips met time and time again in a measured dance a lifetime in the making. He hummed again, and Steve shivered with pleasant desire. Steve easily lifted himself up, putting his weight entirely on his hands against the mattress for a moment as he repositioned himself over his lover. The stream of kisses continued, as Steve slowly laid himself down again, this time between Bucky’s parted thighs. His abdomen pressed faintly to Bucky’s as he smiled into their shared kisses –becoming less accurate, and more the brush of smiling lips together.

 

Lifting his hand from the mattress, Steve gently caressed Bucky’s face – tracing over the peaks of his brow and cheekbone. Brushing at the corner of his mouth as Bucky pushed himself up off of the bed, just enough to take control of the kiss, if nothing else. He still held Steve’s face in his hands – thumbs stroking over his cheekbones and fingers carding through golden hair. Bucky’s slight stubble under Steve’s fingertips was sharp – a light prickle that brought his attention fully back to the man lying supposedly prone beneath him. He really _could_ do this all day, he silently acknowledged his thoughts as he stroked his fingers over Bucky’s skin. Slowly and delicately feeling every inch – memorizing it. He didn’t need to commit it to memory – it was already there. The soft velvet of Bucky’s fine skin was forever present in Steve’s mind. Memories layered upon memories, being re-evaluated and rewritten – added to – now that he had Bucky here - hopefully to stay.

 

It was languid, unhurried, and adoring as Bucky’s hands moved from cradling Steve’s face, to stroking down the back of his neck and out over his broad shoulders. Steve finally eased back from their fond kisses, and nuzzled Bucky gently – rubbing his nose to Bucky’s – doing his best to show him his love and affection through careful and tender touches this time. To show him, if not for the first time, that his only desire in touching him was to express his love and friendship, and not to bring pain. Bucky nuzzled back against him, responding to the affectionate touches as he ever had, and returning them.

 

Steve moved slightly lower, nuzzling his way into the warm space between Bucky’s jaw and clavicle. There, he nudged at Bucky’s pulse with his nose while he dropped a few fond kisses at the base of his throat. His left hand, previously caressing Bucky’s shoulder and down to his bicep, slowly and carefully meandered down Bucky’s side. He wrapped his hand around his right hip, and brushed the pad of his thumb in gentle circles over the peak of Bucky’s hipbone, and traced the stretched line of his hip flexor as he kissed sweet kisses over his clavicle to the hollow at the base of Bucky’s throat.

 

Once there, Bucky caught him under his arms, and gently dragged Steve’s 240 lbs frame back up towards him with ease. He wrapped his arms – one warm and soft-skinned, the other cool and metallic smooth- around Steve’s ribs and hugged him easily as he pressed another devoted kiss to his lips.

 

Steve shuddered at the contrasted feeling of Bucky’s arms, but sank into his embrace with fervour. He stretched slightly to reach as he trailed his hand down from Bucky’s hip and over the thick muscles of his thigh. Bucky hummed his pleasure as he carefully brought his knee up – bending his leg so that Steve could trace and explore the lines of his muscles without straining his shoulders to reach, while he kept him in their tender kiss. Steve’s hand slowly trailed from the outside of Bucky’s thigh, and over the crest of muscle until he reached the soft inner side of his beloved’s thigh. He stroked, gently, over the velvet flesh as his fingers crept higher – tentatively; wanting to proceed but needing Bucky to have the final say. Bucky nodded easily as he rubbed his hand up and down Steve’s back. “Go ahead.” He murmured softly.

 

Steve smiled quickly against Bucky’s lips, but quickly kissed him again as his fingertips ghosted higher still. The faint whimpers and gasped moans of pleasure started the moment Steve’s hand trailed a little higher. He shivered beneath Steve’s delicate and infinitesimal touch on his already half-hard cock – the barely-there touch alighting the sensitive flesh. Steve’s fingers continued to work carefully and slowly – reveling in the feel of Bucky beneath his hand as his fingertips carefully stroked up the underside of his cock – tracing the thick vein slowly. Bucky shuddered violently, panted gasps drawn from him, as he held onto Steve firmly. He lifted his hips into the touch, already starving for more, as Steve’s hand crept slowly back – fondling his testicles gently and feeling their weight in his warm palm as his thumb rubbed gentle circles against them. Bucky was trying his best to keep still, but his hips were undulating out of his control at the gentle but steady stroke of Steve’s fingertips over his perineum.

 

Steve slowly moved down, kissing tenderly from Bucky’s lips to the dimple of his chin, down his throat, and over his chest. Each brush of his lips was soft and sweet- the warmth of his mouth brushing over his chest made Bucky’s back arch off the mattress as he moaned lowly and gripped the pillow under his head – his torso a long open line as Steve slowly kissed lower. He shuddered slightly as his tongue darted out and licked a gentle stripe over Bucky’s abdominals – tasting the salt of his sweat and humming in content as he drew another loud and low moan from the man beneath him. All he wanted to do, was keep drawing those aroused and pleased whimpers and gasps from Bucky.

 

Steve’s hand moved from between Bucky’s thighs, ceasing the soft stroking of tender flesh, and framed his hips instead – holding him as he kissed and licked the expanse of skin before him. He traced the valleys between his abdominals with the pointed tip of his tongue, and laved over the ridge of each individual muscle. 

 

Bucky’s hips were shifting impatiently in arousal, even as Steve held them still. He was moaning desperately as he gripped the pillow between flesh and metal fingers, trying to keep still as Steve fulfilled his burning desire to taste Bucky's skin.

 

Steve dropped a little lower, and licked a slow and wide stripe up one Adonis line, before turning to the other and giving it the same torturous attention.

 

“Stevie…” Bucky panted above him, body shining with a slick sheen of sweat.

 

Steve lifted his gaze to Bucky’s face, as he kept his lips pressed against the man’s lower abdominals.

 

Bucky sat up slightly, using the leverage to grab Steve and pull him back up as he rolled them over, until Steve was lying on his back on the mattress. He was panting, soft little airy whines of pleasure, as he nudged Steve’s knees further apart with his own. He wasted little time, immediately kissing and nipping at Steve’s earlobe before he slid down his body. He kissed his way down, as Steve had done to him. His long hair brushed over Steve’s overheated skin, making the man quiver in pleasure and writhe, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s waist as his heels settled on the back of his thighs. Bucky hummed in delight as he scraped his teeth over Steve’s sternum – making the man jolt and roll his hips up into his stomach.  He held himself up on his left hand – the mechanics whirring softly as the arm calibrated itself to the push-up pose – as his right hand teasingly stroked over his belly in tiny little aborted strokes. His fingers traced down the Adonis’ lines, nearly brushing against the patch of pubic hair, before he quickly moved away again. He stroked down Steve’s side, letting his fingers bump over the slight swell of the ribs beneath the layer of heavy muscle as they drifted down to his hips again.

 

Steve was writhing, rolling his hips against Bucky, as he moaned quietly at the feather-light touch of his lover. It wasn’t enough. “Bucky…”

 

Bucky grinned, briefly, against Steve’s upper abdomen as his fingers finally slipped down to where Steve desired them. His warm hand wrapped around Steve’s erection and tugged a few times – gliding his palm up the shaft and swirling over the head before sinking back to the base and starting anew. The man shuddered underneath him – moaning softly and lowly as his body relaxed in relief at Bucky’s skilled attentions. But the hand released him after a moment, and Steve gasped softly at its departure. Bucky shifted their position, tilting Steve’s pelvis upward for better access. His fingers slipped from Steve’s cock, and brushed against his testicles before skimming down his perineum. He pressed his fingers there a little firmer as he stroked slow lines, making Steve shudder and groan under his touch. Bucky wanted to chuckle, to laugh – but he himself was already so lost in the pleasure of touching each other, that he couldn’t. Instead, his fingers slipped further back again and carefully prodded at the swollen flesh still slick with lube from their earlier round.

 

They groaned in sync, as Steve felt the warm press of Bucky’s fingers once again to his entrance, and Bucky realized that Steve was still mostly ready for him. A few moments more of stroking and the press of his fingers within, along with another drizzle of lube, and he’d be able to sink into him again without bringing Steve any pain.

 

Bucky’s growl of pleasure sent further shivers over Steve’s spine as he already quaked with the need to feel Bucky against and within him. Pulling him back up slightly, Steve grazed his teeth against the shell of Bucky’s ear, murmuring his love with a litany of sweet nothings as his hips rocked against Bucky’s, and back against his hand as Bucky’s deft fingers pressed a little firmer against the ring of muscle –testing how ready Steve still was from before - fingers re-slicked. The tips of two fingers pushed inside with relative ease, and Steve moaned with relief at the feeling.

 

Bucky lifted his face out of the crook of Steve’s neck, and pressed his soft mouth to Steve’s – kissing him tenderly as his fingers eased further in. Steve whined slightly into Bucky’s mouth – grip tightening around his shoulders as Bucky’s skilful hand worked within him, adding a third finger; his fingertips occasionally sparking against the space inside that made him see stars.

 

Bucky pulled back on their kiss, instead sucking Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucking softly. His hand was still working below them as he trailed the tip of his tongue from left to right over the plush surface of Steve’s lip. Steve moaned softly, and nodded his head in confirmation – just a slight bob as his mouth brushed against Bucky’s – trying to recapture their kiss. It might have been seventy two years, but Steve still remembered the wordless language that existed between them. The language that, for the sake of their desperate reunion before, had been tossed to the wind.

 

Bucky’s fingers left him and he pulled back from the kiss as Steve shuddered in disappointment. It didn’t last long; Bucky’s weight shifted slightly over him, and his hands stroked tenderly over Steve’s thighs as he positioned himself – waiting for the last sign of Steve’s assent.

 

The realization that Bucky still remembered this shared language suddenly dawned on Steve like a warm wave of cozy heat flowing over his shoulders and down his back. Eager to fulfill his silent answer to the unasked question, Steve unhooked his arms from around Bucky’s shoulders, and reached out – he took hold of both the flesh and titanium hands, and entwined their fingers – knotting their hands together. He squeezed firmly, and Bucky pressed forward – filling Steve gradually.

 

It took a moment to readjust to the feeling of having Bucky fully seated within him again, but as the beat passed, Steve’s hips began to tentatively roll – coaxing his lover to move with him.

 

Bucky pushed his knees into the mattress for leverage, fingers still knotted with Steve’s, as he moaned lowly at the feeling of Steve’s heat around him.

 

Steve felt like he was glowing, as his hips rolled unhurriedly with Bucky’s. The warm blush of adoration draped over him.  

 

It was unhurried, and tender; two bodies moving as one, feeling every inch of each other as the sweat welled on their flesh. Hands together, fingers entwined, holding on as each undulation brought them gradually closer to the edge together. Softly panted breath, moans pulled soundlessly from their throats – eyes fluttering closed, backs arched. Concentrating only on the euphoric feeling of having each other like this again.

 

The last time they’d made love like this - had been able to take the time to worship each other-  had been the night before the Alps. The two officers of the Howling Commandos had always shared a tent – from the very moment of the 107th’s rescue. It had been relatively quiet that night amongst the elite troops – the weight of the mission the next morning not being lost upon them. Knowing that if they failed, it would mean the end of the allies, and the victory of not only HYDRA, but of Nazi Germany. Dum Dum, Morita, and the others had filed into the tavern to drown their apprehension in a shot or two of whatever passed for whisky in the sieged town. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes had stayed behind, professing that it was their duty to go over the plans once more. They had done it, at least. But the closeness of standing with their heads bowed together and their voices lowered against the quiet of the night, had inevitably bled into something more intimate. Tender gazes, once flickering between each other and the maps laid out before them, ceased to dance away and instead remained lingering on each other. The closeness of each other, the warmth of bodies standing shoulder to shoulder, nearly within each other’s arms – the gentleness of shared breath as they drifted closer… Soon their lips were meeting in short brushes, until they caught each other and the nearly chaste kisses deepened into something both sweet and hungry; love, shared, demanding the expression of two bodies tenderly uniting- something so unshared since the night before Barnes’ deployment.

 

Steve panted softly – eyes pressing shut as his fingers squeezed Bucky’s; hips still rolling at the same mellow pace. Lost in the memory of their last night in ’44. He’d held their last union in his heart for so many years – never able to regret the love they’d shared, though he’d had to keep it to himself. Never regretting that last night, only that it had been their last union. Their unintentional farewell.

 

Bucky shifted against him – hips changing their angle as he took his right hand from Steve’s and leaned down until he was nearly completely on top of his lover. The languid pace of his hips did not falter- did not change – maintaining the leisurely roll. He slid his warm hand up the firm planes of Steve’s chest, skimming gently over his throat before he cradled the back of his neck and lifted Steve’s face slightly. He kissed him dreamily– his lips already bitten red from a hundred shared kisses – bringing Steve back out of the memory and the inevitable sadness that went with it.

 

Steve pressed a little closer, his heels resting on the backs of Bucky’s thighs and keeping him close as they undulated together. The changed angle had Steve gasping softly, as each roll of Bucky’s hips stroked the head of his erection against Steve’s prostate and generated sparks. Moaning, he raised his free hand, and gripped the wrist of the hand that was cradling the back of his neck, and simply held on.

 

Bucky pulled his other hand from Steve’s grasp carefully, and moved to reach down – a second later, he realized his mistake, and shifted slightly. He switched so that his cool, metallic, left hand was holding the back of Steve’s neck, allowing him to slip his warm flesh hand down Steve’s chest and belly making the man shudder. Bucky hummed softly into the dreamy kiss, as his hand wrapped around Steve’s cock and squeezed soothingly. The touch made Steve groan; his hips immediately arching up into his touch – stroking himself with Bucky’s hand as Bucky kept the unyielding pace of his hips against his.

 

Steve’s hand slide up Bucky’s back, over the broad expanse of his shoulders, and into his long dark hair. He knotted his fingers in the tresses, and tugged just firmly enough that Bucky was forced to break the languid kiss as he growled with pleasure. Steve loved that sound – it sent chills through him, amplifying the pleasure he was already thrumming with. He tugged harder on Bucky’s hair, dragging another soft roar of pleasure from him, as Bucky’s hips picked up their pace – his hand working Steve’s sensitive cock in time with his thrusts.

 

And Steve’s hands scrabbled against him, shuddering as it was getting to be too much – his abdomen rippling as he thrust back against Bucky – meeting him stroke for stroke. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, moaning from low within his chest and rumbling against Bucky’s. “Buck – Bucky – _Hunny_!” the word flooded from his lips before he could even register it in his mind. “I need –“ his fingers dug into Bucky’s back.

 

“I’m here, baby, I’ve got you.” Bucky purred, his strained voice rumbling deliciously against Steve’s ear. He was just as close – holding off as best he could until Steve let go. His hand pumped a few more times – dragging the pad of his thumb over the swollen head. “Come on, baby.”

 

Steve’s breath hitched, coming out in desperate little huffs, right before he fell over the edge. He threw his head back against the pillows as his legs tightened their desperate grip on Bucky. His fingers dug into the muscle, harder, drawing blood from crescent shaped cuts that would heal within the hour. He cried out his pleasure as his body went rigid, his orgasm crashing over him as his release covered his and Bucky’s abdomens – muscles fluttering, squeezing, around Bucky inside of him.

 

Bucky’s hand loosened, but kept slowly and carefully stroking, guiding Steve through his orgasm. But the fluttering grip of Steve’s muscles around him drove him to his peak, again. He drove his fingers down into the bedding and gripping tightly as his body went rigid - his cock pulsating as he came with a loud howl of pleasure, throwing his head back.

 

Steve was still trembling as they came down from their shared orgasm – the passionate volume of Bucky’s voice drawing quaking little aftershocks from him as he clung to his shoulders.

 

He suddenly couldn't remember if the floors of the tower were soundproofed... not that it mattered. Not now that he had his darling with him again.

 

Panting softly, body trembling from the flood of adrenalin that came with the orgasm, Bucky touched his forehead to Steve’s as their breath mingled. His perfect Cupid’s bow lips were parted with the last dregs of pleasure as he slowly eased himself out of Steve, and collapsed to the mattress at Steve’s side in slow motion. His eyes slid shut as he caught his breath, body thrumming with the delightful tiredness and soreness of double overworked muscles.

 

Steve looked over at him, and smiled sleepily as he took in the sweat-slicked look of his lover. The slight flush of exertion still glowing pink on Bucky’s chest. Steve leaned in and kissed his bitten red pout softly – nothing more than a gentle brush of mouths together, before he laid back down on the bed. Bucky immediately turned into him, putting his head on Steve’s chest and snuggling up against him. His metal arm was blessedly cool against Steve’s overheated skin as Bucky draped himself over him. Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, holding him close as he started to drift off.

 

The quiet sound of Bucky’s breath evening out into the sleeping pattern that Steve had spent years listening to sharing a single bed in a drafty and stuffy Brooklyn apartment lulled him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> And the second chapter deals with the smut lol


End file.
